


i spy

by pseudojun (wolfboy)



Series: i verse [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Sexual Situations, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, I can't believe I forgot to tag that, Kim Mingyu Is Not Good At Making Up Excuses, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sexual Tension, Xu Minghao Wishes He Had Normal Friends, but not really that accidental?, i know i did, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything, it's also in lapslock bc i have a vendetta against capitalism, mentions of other members probably, mentions of wonhao, oof there's a lot of that, you may get whiplash from the sudden changes in conversational mood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-23 02:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15595767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfboy/pseuds/pseudojun
Summary: it's not like jun wanted to make a habit out of spying on his absurdly hot neighbour, it just sort of... happened. as these things tend to. you know how it goes.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everglowing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everglowing/gifts).



he’s there again, all long, ridiculous tan limbs with just the right amount of muscle, tall enough that jun’s never seen both his waist and the top of his head in the frame of the window at the same time. tonight he’s wearing a tank top, black and made of what must be the world’s flimsiest material so it shifts and pulls over his thin waist, his back, the outlines of the most well-defined pectorals in maybe the history of the universe. he’s probably just come back from the gym; sweat glistens beautifully on the man’s golden skin.  
  
now, if jun told you he doesn’t make a shameful routine of this – sitting at his desk during the window of 6:30 to 7:30 because that, he’s discovered, is when the man is most frequently in varying states of undress – under the pretence of studying, he’d be lying. if he said that the exact position at which he could peer through the gap in his blinds and into the man’s room wasn’t seared into his muscle memory, he’d be lying too, and if you asked jun what he imagines when he’s got the blinds drawn and a hand down his pants, he’d have to admit that yes, maybe he does imagine the ridiculously tall man pressing him against various hard, flat surfaces, and maybe he does imagine being fucked into oblivion by the man, but not in a weird way or anything. _not_ in a weird way. or anything.  
  
besides, it’s not like he wanted to make a habit out of spying on his stupidly hot neighbour – he was attacked; he’d been just minding his own business one day, unable to concentrate on his linguistics textbook for more than ten minutes at a time when he’d looked out of the window, gaze drawn by a flash of yellow, only to be virtually assaulted by that beautiful specimen of a man, whose yellow towel was draped across his shoulders like a medal proclaiming that the man was the hottest human being on earth. and if jun happened to make a habit out of holing himself up in his room in hopes of seeing him, that’s nobody’s business but his own.  
  
anyway.  
  
tonight, the man’s got the windows open like he always does – the air-conditioning in the dorms this side of the university always break down, especially in the summer - and it’s a particularly windy day today, so the man’s curtains flutter a little, flapping out of the frame just like jun’s motivation to do anything related to studying.

  
there’s a particularly strong gust of wind, and the man’s tank top lifts up slightly, exposing a smooth expanse of stomach, ridges of abdominal muscles clear even from where jun’s sitting. jun, meanwhile, feels himself begin to harden, and presses the heel of his palm into his hipbone. in the man’s room, a pile of haphazardly stacked papers sweeps itself off the desk.  
  
jun watches with a rapidly drying mouth as the man bends over, his ass gloriously formed by the gods, probably, and sets the papers back on the table. predictably, this does nothing to soothe jun’s semi, and when the man leaves the frame of the window, coming back with a box of tissues and a bottle that is unmistakably lotion, jun begins to feel like he’s in a hyper-realistic wet dream.  
  
the man sets the lotion and tissues on his desk, pulling down his sweatpants just enough to expose the sharp juts of his hipbones. he pauses for a second as if listening for his roommates, and finally pushes his pants down the rest of the way to his ankles, folding and placing them on the seat of his desk chair before sitting down himself, long legs spread wide, his hips facing the window.  
  
jun swallows hard, shifting a little self-consciously. the man is big, and while that shouldn’t be surprising given the general size of him, it’s more than just a little arousing, watching as the man strokes himself to full hardness, teeth sunk into pink lips the same colour as the head of his cock. if jun really concentrates, he can imagine he hears the obscene, wet sound of the man’s hand on his cock.  
  
the man’s arm muscles ripple as he begins to stroke himself faster and faster, his head falling back, mouth open now. jun, palming himself absentmindedly, finds himself wondering what kind of sounds he makes, and what he would sound like in jun’s ear. the man, precum leaking over his fingers now, mouths ‘ _fuck_ ’, adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, the man swipes a thumb over the head of his cock–  
  
looks up.  
  
jun freezes instantly, a deer in headlights, too dumbstruck to do anything but stare, wide-eyed, back at the man. he’s still jerking himself off, amusement gleaming in his eyes and tugging the corners of his lips up before a twist of his hand has him throwing his head back and he comes, catching most of it in a tissue-covered hand before wiping himself off. a spurt of cum catches on the heel of his palm, but instead of wiping it away with the tissue, the man, still holding eye contact, brings his hand to his mouth and licks the spot clean.  
  
there’s a few moments of stillness now. the man’s got on what must be the most unfair post-orgasm expression ever; his hair is plastered to his head, burning eyes hooded, his pink lips parted, chest heaving, and his jawline looks like it could cut jun without even trying.  
  
jun feels like he might die. his face is, without a doubt, a million shades redder than any human has any right to be. the man’s still looking directly at him.  
  
and then the man looks up sharply to his left, tucking the lotion and tissues under his desk and tossing the tissue in the trash can before shaking out his pants and pulling them up and–  
  
“mingyu!” comes a voice, faintly, from the open window, and the man startles before moving out of the frame to talk to whoever it was. after a few moments, the light in the room turns off.  
  
_mingyu_. the man’s name is _mingyu_. jun leans back, mind fuzzy, still staring into the darkened window, its curtains still flapping forlornly in the wind.  
  
and then it hits him that the extremely attractive man jun’s been spying on for the last few weeks just saw jun watching him jerking off, that said man held full fucking eye contact as he orgasmed, and that jun is now hard as a fucking rock because of said man. jun rolls off his chair, dashing out of his dorm room and past a startled soonyoung down the hallway to the bathroom, moving weirdly because he’s so goddamn hard.  
  
jun has one hell of an existential crisis under water as cold as it gets in an attempt not to jerk off himself before he remembers what the man – _mingyu_ , and holy _shit_ if knowing the extremely attractive man’s name isn’t gonna make it that much more horrible – looked like when he was jacking off, following which jun decides, _fuck it,_ and gets himself off exactly two and a half times before wonwoo yells through the door about eggs that need adult supervision because soonyoung’s trying to cook.  
  
  
  
  
jun takes to studying in the library. for one thing, he wasn’t getting any work done at his desk, and for another, he doesn’t think he (or his dick) could handle any more eye contact with mingyu. plus, now that he’s actually studying instead of creeping on his hot neighbour, his grade average has gone up a little, so it’s really a win-win situation. it’s not like he’s been wondering if mingyu noticed that jun’s window has been dark until late at night, and that even when jun gets back at 10pm or later, the curtains are closed. really.  
  
anyway, that was saturday. thursday afternoon finds jun waiting for minghao, a skinny international relations major in jun’s 8:30 asian studies seminar, so they can study confucian philosophies in the 21st century in a little alcove in the corner of the library. the window to his left provides good lighting, besides which, it looks out onto the courtyard. it’s a little colder today, but it’s so hot in the library that jun was in danger of falling asleep on top of one of the many piles of confucius-related books until he opened a window to let some of the cold air in.  
  
he’s looking out the window into the courtyard, having noticed a particularly fluffy-looking cat feeding her kittens, when someone stops by his table. “it’s about time, minghao,” jun begins, turning around to point at the man in question and grinning when minghao rolls his eyes in response, “i’d started thinking you weren’t...coming...” he trails off, and minghao seems to take that as an opportunity to speak over him. jun, however, is beginning to think that his life is just a series of worse and worse jokes, or at least a terrible, horrible fever dream. standing slightly behind minghao, in all his ridiculously tall glory, is mingyu.  
  
jun is becoming slowly, mortifyingly aware that he’s turning red, and while mingyu looks like he’s just stepped out of a photoshoot, jun’s wearing his oldest, most stretched-out black tee (which is admittedly his favourite shirt but only because it’s so soft), and sweatpants which have mud stains near the hems. he’s also mortifyingly aware of the fact that while he’s been gaping at mingyu (the man who literally saw jun watching him jack off! he held full fucking eye contact with jun while he came!), who’s currently regarding him with a horribly familiar expression of amusement, minghao’s been speaking.  
  
“—lost a bet to him so i have to treat him to lunch, but he doesn’t trust me to not bail on him so he’s gonna hang out here while we study, and then we can all go and eat, is that okay with you, _ge_?” minghao says, then seems to notice the impromptu staring match happening between jun and mingyu, looking between the two with an increasingly bemused look on his face. “um,” he says, and when that triggers no reaction from either man, “do you two know each other?”  
  
“no!” jun says, way too quickly, and a millisecond later, mingyu says “yes.”  
  
there’s a pregnant pause, during which minghao looks between the two men. “o–kay...” minghao says finally, looking a little disturbed as he backs away slowly, “i’m just gonna... go and look for some books. you two, uh... get to know each other. without me.”  
  
“i brought all the books on confucius!“ jun protests, frantic, eyes darting to mingyu, whose amused expression is beginning to look frankly terrifying, “actually, why don’t i go with you–“  
  
“i’m going. to look. for some books. _alone_ ,” minghao hisses. jun freezes, outstretched hand flopping down uselessly onto the table, and before his very eyes, the last remaining strand of jun’s sanity grows further and further away until jun is left alone with the reason for his rapidly declining sanity.  
  
panic rising in his chest, jun seizes the nearest book and opens it to a random page, trying his damnedest to pretend not to notice or show fear when mingyu takes the seat directly opposite him. there’s a few beats of silence during which jun swears his heartbeat only gets louder and faster until he feels like he’s going into cardiac arrest, trying to hide behind the book without seeming like he’s hiding.  
  
“mingyu,” mingyu says, and jun startles.  
  
“excuse me?” jun squeaks, peeking just the tiniest bit over the top of his book.  
  
mingyu makes a weird little “ _pbfft_ ” sound, turning away from jun and burying his face in his shoulder, body shaking with the force of his giggles. “my name,” he says eventually. “it’s mingyu.”  
  
“oh,” jun says, eloquently. then, “i knew that.”  
  
mingyu arches an eyebrow, and jun wants to die. “did you really? and here i was thinking you weren’t a stalker, but i guess it’s not too surprising that i was wrong.”  
  
“no– i wasn’t– i’m not a stalker!” jun protests, far too loud. in one of the aisles, a librarian shoots jun a death glare, and he shrinks back, much to mingyu’s apparent amusement. “ _i’m not a stalker_ ,” jun hisses, more quietly. “i just– i happened to hear your roommate say your name!” mingyu’s eyebrow only climbs higher, and jun feels himself flush. “it’s true! that last time–“ jun begins, then decides he should probably shut up.  
  
when jun musters the courage to look over the top of his book again, mingyu’s grinning at him. “and you’re _junhui_ ,” mingyu says, as if he hadn’t just accused jun of being a stalker. “wen junhui. i’d never have guessed minghao was friends with the dude who spies on me from his window every night.”  
  
jun’s mouth goes dry. “you– you knew?” mingyu’s grin only grows wider, and jun’s blood runs cold, the book dropping to the table with a slap that would be comical if jun wasn’t on the cusp of a mental breakdown. “oh my god– i’m so– i didn’t– fuck, i’m so sorry– i swear i didn’t mean to keep spying on you, it just sort of– happened, but i completely understand if you want to report me– do you want my student number–“  
  
there are hands on jun’s arm now, and it’s so startling that he stops talking and looks up into – too close! – mingyu’s startlingly expressive eyes. “junhui,” mingyu says, as if soothing a spooked animal. “i’m not mad.”  
  
“you’re–“ jun’s voice cracks; he swallows hard, tries again. “you’re not?”  
  
mingyu nods, still holding onto jun’s arm with both hands. jun wonders distantly if mingyu’s noticed jun trying minutely to shift away from his face. “i wouldn’t say no to your phone number, though.”  
  
“you– what,” jun croaks, mind reeling.  
  
“your number,” mingyu repeats, holding out his phone, which seems to have come from nowhere. jun, not for the first time, wonders if he’s hallucinating.  
  
“my number you say– i don’t understand why you’re not more mad about me spying on you! not even– not even a week ago, i watched you–“ jun’s mouth snaps shut, eyes firmly fixed on a spot just beside mingyu’s right elbow.  
  
“junhui. firstly, do you _want_ me to report you?” mingyu asks, and when jun opens his mouth, ready to protest, mingyu holds up a finger. “do you _really_ want me to report you?” after a pause, jun shakes his head. “there you go. secondly, junhui, it’s really not that hard to avoid that window, you know. the angle of it means i have to be really far into my room to be seen from your window,” mingyu continues. pauses, then, “or into your window.”  
  
jun looks up. “what– what are you saying?”  
  
mingyu suddenly grins again, and it lights up his face. “you’re so cute when you’re confused,” he coos. “i’m saying that i wanted you to see me.”  
  
“you wanted–“  
  
“al–right, i found the books i was looking for!” minghao says suddenly, and mingyu and jun spring apart. “oops,” he deadpans, regarding the two with what might be the most judgemental expression since the beginning of time. “did i interrupt something?”  
  
“no,” mingyu replies, sliding his phone across the table to jun. “junhui was just giving me his number.”  
  
jun takes the phone, dumbstruck, and keys his phone number into the contacts list as if on autopilot. minghao, meanwhile, is pretending to vomit. “look at you, pretending you’re smooth,” minghao quips, and mingyu’s ears actually turn a little pink. “now just sit there and look pretty while we do our work, and then we can go get food when we’re done.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minghao, watching gyuhui be the epitome of the confident gay/panicked gay meme: why can’t i have normal friends
> 
>  
> 
> this fic will probably be completed by the end of the week!


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two guys with phones

the light switch in mingyu’s room makes a disturbing  _clack_  sound when he tries to turn on the light, the room only lighting up a few beats later. mingyu leans back against his door, trying his best to stifle the urge to do a dumb little victory dance around his room as he glances at his phone, a trophy containing what feels like the best reward for doing absolutely nothing.   
  
he flops face-first onto his bed, grabbing a handful of pillow and yelling incoherently into it – he finally met his hot neighbour! in person! his hot neighbour doesn’t think he’s a complete creep! he got his hot neighbour’s number! he ate lunch with his hot neighbour! and if the hot neighbour in question was all cute and red and flustered throughout the experience, well. that was a bonus.   
  
_junhui_. mingyu sneaks a glance towards his window, the curtains drawn halfway. junhui hadn’t been at his window since saturday, so it was unlikely that he’d be there now. and yet...  
  
mingyu gets up, catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and hastily tries to smooth his hair down before crossing the room to his window ad pulling back the curtains. junhui’s window is dark, and mingyu sits back down on his bed, slightly disheartened. the blank ceiling stares back at him as he fiddles with the hem of his blanket.   
  
a rush of arousal sears through mingyu –  _god_ , the look on junhui’s face when he was watching mingyu – he spares a guilty look at his phone before reaching for the curtains to close them again.   
  
junhui’s light turns on. mingyu just about falls off his bed in his haste to look presentable, glancing between his phone and his desk in a frenzy to figure out what would make him look the most effortlessly attractive. in the end, he settles for reclining on the desk chair as he pretends to flip the pages of a book wonwoo had lent him, peeking over the top of the book every so often to see if junhui’s got his curtains open.   
  
after ten minutes or so of flipping aimlessly through the book – to be fair, it looks very interesting; something about geniuses and street-smart elves and centaurs with technology more advanced than humans even understood, but mingyu’s not in the mood right now – junhui’s curtains are still infuriatingly shut. mingyu tosses the book onto his desk, grabbing his phone, and opens up his contact list to send junhui a message before he freaks out and listens to his better judgement.   
  
**to: junhui**  
hi junhui!  
☆〜（ゝ。∂）  
  
as soon as mingyu sends the message, he regrets it with his entire being. the winky face was wholly unnecessary and now junhui definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, thinks either that he’s a weeb, or that he’s extremely socially awkward and doesn’t know how to deal with possibly romantic situations, or worse –  _both_.   
  
the bubble indicating signs of typing from junhui pops up onscreen and mingyu just about has a heart attack, holding his phone at arm’s length as he stares anxiously at the bubble.   
  
**from: junhui**  
who is this?  
  
mingyu smacks his head.  _of course_  he would send a creepy winking emoticon and not his actual name.   
  
**to: junhui**  
how frequently do you give out your number to attractive young men?  
  
that was good, that sounded smooth, no emoticons this time. mingyu lays his phone down on the desk gently, startling when it buzzes, twice in quick succession the moment it touches the table.   
  
**from: junhui**  
you know i can see you, right?  
i’m kind of glad you’re not actually super smooth, kim mingyu  
  
**to: junhui**  
......what has minghao told you  
  
**from: junhui**  
wonwoo, actually.   
i didn’t know he was your archaeology partner  
but he told me not to tell you, so ┑(￣Д ￣)┍  
  
**to: junhui**  
oh god  
  
**from: junhui**  
so uhh...   
are we gonna talk about That?  
  
almost instantaneously, mingyu’s pulse quickens. he sneaks a glance up towards junhui’s window and his heart does a weird little stuttering thing in his chest; junhui’s got the window open and the blinds open, sitting cross-legged on his chair. he looks at mingyu, goes visibly pink, and waves a little sheepishly.   
  
mingyu looks down at his phone, then at junhui, then back to his phone, and decides,  _fuck it_.   
  
junhui tosses his phone about five feet straight up when his phone rings, sending mingyu into a fit of giggles as he watches junhui scrabble to pick up.   
  
“fucking– hello?”  
  
mingyu snorts into the receiver, grinning when junhui glares at him. “i don’t think that’s usually how people answer the phone, junhui.”  
  
“you startled me, and for your information, if i’d broken my phone it would have been a hundred percent your fault,” junhui says, clambering onto his chair again and perching on it in a position that doesn’t look anywhere near comfortable.   
  
“well, you didn’t break it,” mingyu says, and adds, “so what did you want to talk about, again?”  
  
it’s extremely entertaining to watch the various stages of pink junhui’s face turns before setting on red, unable to look mingyu directly in the face before he dives from his chair out of sight, presumably onto his bed. sure enough, there’s the rustling of bedsheets through the phone, a flump that sounds like junhui flopping on his pillow. “um. yes. that.”  
  
“that,” mingyu repeats, amused.   
  
“i wasn’t– i didn’t think you would call,” junhui says, sounding slightly flustered. mingyu remembers the adorable blush as it rose on junhui’s cheeks, imagines it spreading down his neck and maybe onto his chest as mingyu bends him in half and spreads him out with his cock.   
  
mingyu adjusts himself in his pants.   
  
“i have to admit, i have no idea what i’m doing,” mingyu admits, and his voice sounds tighter than he meant it to. “i guess you have that effect on me.”  
  
there’s a pause. “what does that mean?”  
  
“it means that the reason i’ve moved my furniture into the very corner of the room is that i’ve been trying to get your attention all this time.”  
  
another pause. “if you wanted to ask me out, you could have just asked wonwoo to tell me,” junhui says, sounding a little amused, and mingyu feels himself begin to flush.   
  
“i couldn’t,” mingyu protests. “wonwoo’s got a vendetta against me; he thinks minghao likes me and that i’m stringing him along.”  
  
there’s a faint tapping sound, and the rustling of sheets. mingyu imagines junhui frowning. “doesn’t wonwoo like minghao?”  
  
“have you been living under a rock?”  
  
“ohhh,” junhui says, a note of dawning comprehension in his voice. “minghao likes wonwoo, though?”  
  
“exactly,” mingyu replies, and junhui laughs.   
  
“are they kids?” junhui wonders, then, “oh, actually, how do you know minghao?”  
  
“we’re in the wine-tasting society together,” mingyu replies, and grins when he hears junhui’s giggle through the phone. “he talks about you a lot–“  
  
“don’t listen to him!” junhui says urgently, and through the window, mingyu sees junhui’s legs flailing.   
  
“don’t worry,” mingyu tells him, and decides not to tell him about how he grilled minghao for information regarding junhui as soon as he left.   


  
  
it’s actually a little overwhelming, listening to mingyu’s voice through the phone after weeks of fantasising about how he would sound whispering filthy things into jun’s ear, and jun finds himself running a light hand over himself in his jeans as mingyu recounts a funny story about a time he and minghao got drunk. jun shifts a little, unbuttoning his pyjama pants the slightest amount, and slides his hand into his pants, heart racing. his breath hitches, and mingyu pauses.   
  
“junhui?”  
  
jun, with his heart in his mouth, hums in reply, not trusting his voice enough to speak.   
  
“what are you doing?”  
  
and isn’t that a million-dollar question right there; what _is_ jun doing? choose one of the following: a) regretting all of his life decisions, b) getting ready to jack off to the sound of his hot neighbour’s voice, whom he only recently met, c) something stupid, or d) all of the above. jun, having chosen d), decides he would like to use the million dollars to plan a nice funeral.   
  
“um,” jun says, and nearly punches himself when his voice cracks slightly.   
  
over the phone, mingyu huffs out a laugh. “were you touching yourself?” he asks, and jun shivers.   
  
“um,” jun says again, a heat pooling in his stomach now. “n-no?”  
  
“i think,” mingyu begins, his voice almost a purr, “that you are touching yourself. am i right?”  
  
jun’s brain stutters to a halt. instantly, his body is alight with fire, cock hard in his pants as he sits on his bed, holding his breath. “no,” he tries to say, but it comes out a whisper.   
  
“right,” mingyu says, amused, unconvinced. “but while we’re on the topic of touching yourself, don’t you think you should return the favour?”  
  
he’s fully hard now, only stopped from shoving both hands down his pants by the knowledge that he hasn’t locked his door. “what– what are you saying?”  
  
“i want to hear you get yourself off,” mingyu replies, and a fresh wave of arousal floods the pit of jun’s belly.   
  
a humiliating little whimper escapes jun, and he feels his ears burn before saying into the phone, “i don’t want to be the only one, though,” and promptly wanting to bury himself alive.   
  
“then we still wouldn’t be even,” mingyu replies, and jun wonders distantly how much it would cost to migrate to an obscure part of europe. “i could talk you through it, though.”  
  
it’s like fifty of jun’s fantasies are coming to life at once, except it’s made so much better – or worse – by the fact that mingyu’s devastating voice is actually saying these things through the phone, by the fact that jun knows that if he looked through his window into mingyu’s, mingyu would probably be staring right back. “yes please,” jun whispers, and mingyu chuckles.   
  
“but first i want to know what you think about me,” mingyu says. “what do you think about when you jerk off?” jun lets out an involuntary moan, bitten off at the end when he realises his door still isn’t locked. quickly, he runs through a mental checklist of his roommates; soonyoung has a lecture until 9:30, wonwoo’s gone out to dinner with minghao, and jihoon practically never comes back before midnight. all it takes is three steps past his window to his door and back to lock it, but when he hears mingyu’s giggle through the phone, his heart starts racing. “that was both hilarious and adorable,” mingyu tells jun, amid a fit of giggles, “and i like your shirt, by the way.”  
  
jun looks down. of course today would be the day he decided to wear his neko atsume shirt, of course, because the universe hates him. jun barely resists the urge to slap himself in the forehead, but says into the phone, “it’s not like i was planning to have phone sex with my hot neighbour when i picked out my pyjamas, okay,” grinning when he hears mingyu’s giggles intensify.   
  
“so you think i’m hot, do you?”   
  
jun’s ears burn. “well. yeah? have you seen yourself?”  
  
“then why don’t you tell me what you imagine about your hot neighbour when you’re alone,” mingyu says, voice low and husky. jun’s cock, which had been flagging, immediately takes an interest, hardening almost painfully in his pants.   
  
“i,” jun begins, then stops, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. he swallows hard, breathes in. “i imagine– you, on– um, on top of me, and–  _fuck_ , you inside me, and–“ he cuts himself off, achingly hard in his pants, cheeks burning, and when mingyu takes over, jun isn’t sure whether he’s thankful or even more embarrassed.   
  
“junhui,” mingyu says, low and commanding, “i want you to strip–“ and jun does, scrambling to pull his shirt over his head and his pants off his legs, “–and then i want you to start touching yourself like you usually do.” jun barely suppresses a groan, the pit of his belly filled almost to the brim now with arousal as he follows mingyu’s instructions. “i think i’d quite like to blow you,” he says, and this time jun does groan, phone on speaker mode on the bedspread beside him as he pumps some lotion into his palm, spreading it in his hand before taking his cock in his hands and stroking himself a few times, breathing out shakily. “take my time sucking you off until you’re begging me to go faster, maybe spread you open with my fingers; i bet you’d look adorable like that, bucking into my mouth and back onto my fingers like you don’t know which way to go.”   
  
jun curls onto his side, tangling one hand in his hair as he fucks up into his hand, breathing in gasps and whimpers.  on the other side of the phone, mingyu’s voice seems to get almost impossibly deeper. “i’ve imagined making you ride me, imagined you fucking yourself on my cock, your thighs shaking as you try to get more of me in you before i pin you down to the mattress, fuck you hard and fast and dirty until you’re crying and begging me to let you come.” arousal slams into jun like a tidal wave, and the moan he lets out is long and broken, his hand gathering precum, moving faster on his cock as he chases his orgasm. “junhui.” jun makes a broken noise of acknowledgement, eyes screwed shut and mouth gaping, breath not coming quick enough. “are you close?” mingyu asks. jun groans an affirmative, one hand on his chest to tease at his nipples, the other stroking the head of his cock and dipping into the slit– “hands off.”  
  
without even thinking about it, jun’s hands are pressed to the mattress. “ _what_ –“ jun gasps, mind reeling. “why–“   
  
“trust me,” mingyu says, and jun does. “do you ever finger yourself?”  
  
jun shudders, his cock jerking against his stomach. “sometimes– yeah, i do.”  
  
“i want you to finger yourself for me,” mingyu tells him, and jun thinks he hears the sound of mingyu’s hand moving slowly on his cock as he reaches for the bottle of lotion, coating his fingers liberally. “you look like the kind of guy who loves being teased, so i want you to go slow.” the noise jun makes as he circles his hole with one slick finger can only be described as a whine, high and drawn-out. “fuck, junhui, you sound– i wish i could see you.“ jun works a finger inside of himself and moans at the stretch, and over the phone, mingyu’s groan echoes it. “i’d have you on your hands and knees, make you spread yourself for me; i bet you’d look so good like that, all flushed and exposed,” mingyu continues, his voice next to jun’s ear so overwhelming that jun has to add another finger, focusing on the slight burn of the stretch instead. a strangled moan spills from his lips as he curls tighter in on himself, gasping for air as he gets a hand on his cock again, gathering up the precum and moaning a little at the squelching sound it makes when he fucks up into his own fist. “you’d look so pretty with hickeys decorating your skin; i’d love to mark you up as i fucked you – god – make sure anyone who saw you for the next few days knew you’d been fucked real good.”  
  
jun gasps, fingertips grinding into his prostate, and starts moving his hand faster, tighter over his cock, desperate little whimpers escaping him. “i’m– fuck– m-mingyu, i’m gonna–“  
  
“come for me, junhui,” mingyu says, voice tight, and jun comes, back arching off the mattress, his toes curling. over the phone, mingyu groans quietly, low and broken.   
  
“ _fuck_ ,” jun says breathlessly, once he remembers how to speak.   
  
mingyu chuckles, and jun’s heart rate stutters a little. “that good, huh?”  
  
“how often do you do this, kim mingyu?” jun asks, mock-accusatory, grabbing a few tissues from his nightstand to clean up with.   
  
“never,” mingyu replies, and then, when jun makes a disbelieving noise, “it’s true! minghao will probably be the first to tell you, but i’m really not that smooth.” jun snorts his disbelief, tossing the tissues into the bin. “i don’t know whether to be offended that you don’t believe me or flattered that you think i’m that smooth.”  
  
“flattered, probably,” jun remarks, yawning a little, then grins, even though mingyu can’t see him. “this time tuesday?”  
  
“maybe a video call,” mingyu suggests, smirk almost audible through the phone.   
  
“what a romantic,” jun says sarcastically. “take a guy out on a date first, why don’t you?”  
  
“al–right,” mingyu grumbles, but there’s a note of amusement in his voice. “how do you like breakfast dates?”  
  
“how do you like breakfast at noon?”  
  
“and they say romance is dead,” mingyu teases, and jun stifles giggles into his shoulder, trying to put his pants on with his left hand. “tomorrow at 3pm, the cat cafe just off campus?”  
  
“i think i love you,” jun tells him, putting on his neko atsume shirt and peeking through the window into mingyu’s room. "you must be an angel."  
  
“that’s a good start,” says mingyu’s voice over the phone, nowhere to be found in his room. “don’t speak too soon though; i got cum in my favourite shirt.”  
  
“and they say romance is dead,” jun says, grinning as mingyu giggles, a door slamming somewhere on mingyu’s end of the line.   
  
“millennials are killing everything,” mingyu says sagely, “we’re an epidemic– oh hi, seungkwan! i thought you weren’t coming back till later– no, this is– yeah, it’s my shirt– the white stuff? uh, yeah, it– no– it’s– i was drinking– milk? yeah, uh– but i’ve gotta get it into the laundry machine or it’ll stain, haha, but it’s not bodily fluids or anything! yup, uh-huh- totally, see you later, bye now–“ there’s another slam, this time closer to the phone. “oh my  _god_ ,” mingyu says, a little breathless, and jun finally lets out the laughter he’d been holding in. “stop laughing, he’s never gonna let me live this down!”   
  
“hey, remember that time you thought it’d be a better idea to let me watch you jack off than actually ask me out?” jun asks between giggles.   
  
“not you too,” mingyu grumbles over the sounds of the washing machine rattling to life. “i liked it better when you thought i was smooth.”  
  
“i bet you did,” jun replies, grinning as mingyu emerges back into his room. “but i think i like you better now.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you: i got cum in my shirt  
> mingyu, an intellectual and disaster gay: I WAS DRINKING MILK AND SPILLED IT
> 
> if anyone can figure out what the book wonwoo lent mingyu is, leave a comment and i'll...uh...i'll write you a fic? or i'll let you decide what the next instalment in the series should contain, i dunno. whichever. i love comments!
> 
> drop me a message on [twitter](https://twitter.com/5_Inkstains) or [instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/wolfboy_writes/)


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